


Burns Leave Scars

by finereluctance



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Greg has PTSD, M/M, Nick is a good partner, episode tag S05E18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 13:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2509220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finereluctance/pseuds/finereluctance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Spark of Life; Greg has a rough night when he visits the burn unit for the first time since he was a patient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burns Leave Scars

***

Greg made his way through the hallways at Desert Palm until he reached the burn unit, room three. He eased the door open and took a breath to prepare himself, he hadn’t been in the burn unit since he was a patient, but nothing could prepare him for what he found on the other side of the door. She was alive. He hadn’t expected that, not given Grissom’s account of the burns and the paramedics assessment of her condition. It seemed impossible.

He rubbed absently at the back of his neck, touching the top of his worst burn scar without conscious thought of the action, and watched the girl lay there while the doctors handled the debridement of the burned flesh. He hardly remembered the time he’d spent in the burn unit because of the morphine, but they had done similar work to his back for a few hours. He stared in silence and clutched his kit a bit tighter in his hand to warn off the shakes that threatened to start up. That could have been him. If the explosion had been worse, if the chemicals had been more than just combustible, if they’d been corrosive or acidic… Greg willed himself to take a breath and pushed the thought to the back of his mind when the doctor approached.

“I thought... I just assumed she was dead.” He heard the tremble in his own voice.

“It's a miracle she's not.” The doctor stood with him for a few minutes and just watched them work. “This is as bad as it gets.”

Greg didn’t think so. He remembered the pain, remembered how long it had taken for his skin to heal, for his back to stop burning and itching when the new skin grew. His burns had been minimal compared to what she was dealing with. “How extensive are the burns?” 

“Mostly third degree.” The doctor was solemn.

“I hope the morphine's working,” he commented in the silence, rubbing at his neck again. He caught himself that time and realized it was the phantom itches again. It had been a long time since he’d dealt with that.

The doctor looked at him curiously, but didn’t ask. Greg was thankful for that. “Third degree burns are painless. The nerves are burned away. She's not conscious of what's happening to her.”

He remembered that too. Not the debridement part so much, but he heard the doctors tell Grissom and Catherine the same thing during one of his lucid moments. This doctor, maybe. Telling them that he wouldn’t feel it, that he likely wasn’t aware of it at all. “Not now.” She would definitely be conscious of it if she survived long enough to reach the healing stages.

Again the doctor let the comment slide as they stood there quietly, Greg lost up in his own thoughts. “She's still a Jane Doe,” the doctor mentioned, reminding Greg of why he was there.

He’d come in for a reason, after all. “I'm going to need all of her clothes, as well as any trace off her body.” She was the only lead they had after all, and with no identification there wasn’t a lot they could do until they had some answers from trace.

“Of course.” The doctor nodded. “We'll save whatever we find during debridement.”

“Thank you,” Greg couldn’t tear his eyes away from where the doctors were working on Jane Doe’s fingers. His hands trembled so badly that even clenching them as tightly as possible couldn’t stop the shakes.

“She's gonna lose those fingers.”

Greg dug his nails into his palms until he drew blood. He didn’t notice.

***

Grissom looked up from the table of evidence when Greg entered. “I hear our victim is still alive.”

Sadly, Greg replied, “I don't see why.” He set the bag of clothes and evidence from the hospital on the table with his left hand, his right cradled against his stomach. He hoped Grissom wouldn’t notice, he hadn’t gotten to the locker room to clean his hand yet.

“Well, she's not ready to let go yet.” Greg noticed the moment Grissom’s attention went to his hand. “Greg, your hand is bleeding.”

Greg sighed. “I was just on my way to clean it up, I cut it on something on my way in.” The lie sounded empty to his own ears, he knew Grissom would never buy it. Not with the blood already dried and crusty. And under his nails.

“Well go bandage it, then you’re in the lab for the rest of the shift.” Grissom studied him in that way he had, the one that always made him feel exposed and vulnerable.

“Yes, sir.” He left quickly, headed for the locker room and attempted to avoid running into anyone on his way. Thankfully it seemed everyone was out in the field or tied up on a case, but once in the locker room he realized he couldn’t wrap his right hand because his left wasn’t quite as skilled. He jumped and the first aid kit clattered to the floor when the door opened.

“Whoa there, G. You okay?” Nick came into the room, concerned when he saw the mess. “Grissom said you needed me?”

Greg nodded silently as he stared at the mess, trying to figure out what to do with it. All he was seeing was burned hands and flesh, and his hands shook of their own accord.

Nick crossed over to kneel in front of him, gathering up the dropped supplies and taking the kit from Greg’s lap to lay it out on the bench. “Let me see your hands,” he was calm, his voice soothing to Greg’s ears. Nick was steady, reliable. Everything he was when Greg was in the hospital and recovering afterwards.

He did as he was told, his hands trembling as he turned them face up in his lap to expose eight crescent-shaped cuts. “She was still alive,” he murmured.

“Shhh,” Nick whispered. “Try not to think about her right now.” He wiped Greg’s hands gently, cleaning out the cuts and using a damp towel to get the blood from beneath his nails.

“Nicky,” he dropped his head to watch Nick work. “How do you get the pictures out of your head?”

His partner looked up at him and ran his fingers through his hair, tucking his hand to Greg’s neck. “I have you. It makes it a lot easier to get through the tough cases.”

Greg leaned into the touch, his eyes closed as he took slow breaths, trying to focus on Nick rather than the picture of the girl in his mind. The warmth of his partner’s hand on his throat was easier to focus on and the trembling in his hands subsided as he calmed down.

Nick only resumed wrapping his hands when he was certain Greg was ready. Nick always could tell when he was relaxed or tense, always knew exactly what he needed and when. It was something he never experienced with anyone but Nick. Gently he wrapped the gauze around Greg’s hands, securing it in place with a bit of tape.

“Thanks, Nicky,” he whispered.

“Anytime, darlin’,” Nick drawled, drawing a faint smile from Greg. “We’ll talk more after shift, okay? I’ve gotta get back.” Greg nodded in response and waited while Nick put the first aid kit away, kissed him softly, and walked him to the door. “Hang in there, G.”

***

Greg stood with the victim’s husband in room three of the burn unit, watching Tara once again as the doctors continued to peel away burned flesh. It was hard to watch even now, and the look on the husband’s face made Greg feel sick to his stomach.

“I don't know who that is, but that's not my wife. That's not Tara.” Denial. Greg had been afraid of that. Not that he blamed the guy, he would have reacted the same way if someone tried to tell him that was Nick under all those burns.

Greg took an evidence bag from his pocket, her wedding ring inside. “Is this her ring?” he asked gently.

The husband took one look at it and Greg watched the realization and acceptance cross his features. “My God…. How did this happen?” 

There was no good answer for that, so Greg could only tell him what he could. “We're still investigating.”

“All day I've been waiting for her to get home. I was really going to make it up to her.” He felt guilty, Greg could see that. He couldn’t imagine what he was going through, but he did know what Tara would need if she survived.

“She’s going to need you, you know. When she gets out of here.” He looked back at her as he spoke, unable to look at the husband. “The doctors don’t tell you how much it hurts to grow new skin, how much it itches, and how much it hurts to be touched. The lotions and creams that help the burns are agony to put on, but it’s impossible to do it yourself. It takes a gentle touch. A light hand from someone who loves you.” He realized belatedly he might have said too much.

The husband was looking curiously at him now. Greg could see the reflection in the glass so he didn’t turn to look at the husband. “You say that like you’ve been through it before.”

Greg nodded. “I did, a few years ago. Third degree burns to my neck and back.” He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. It wasn’t something he usually talked about. “I was lucky to have someone there to get me through it… it took a lot of patience for both of us.”

“But you got through it.”

“We did. Together.”

***

Greg was exhausted when he got back to the lab from the hospital for the second time that shift. His talk with the husband had taken an emotional toll on top of being drained physically, and all he really wanted was to crawl into bed with Nick.

Greg was hit with a sense of deja vu when he dropped a bag on the table for Grissom. “How'd it go at the hospital?”

He shrugged and gestured at the bag in front of him. “About as well as could be expected. Doctors had to amputate the fingers from her right hand.” He closed his own hand reflexively until the twinged when he pulled on the fresh scabs. “Too great a risk for infection. They gave them to me to process for trace.”

It wasn’t even worth trying to hide the flinch from Grissom. “You've pulled a double, Greg. You need a break.” The older man nodded at the bag. “I'll process it. You go home and get some rest.”

Greg thought about arguing, was tempted to tell Grissom he was fine and could handle a triple, but realized that it would be foolish. Grissom was right, he did need a break. “Thanks.”

***

Greg was thankful for the silence in the locker room. He sat on the bench for a while, his fingers curled and his head in his hands as he tried to find the energy to change before he went home. It turned out to be a bigger task than he wanted to deal with.

Sophia’s voice broke through the fuzzy silence in his head. “What's the problem?”

“Nothing.” He mumbled and raised his head to look at her. “I'm fine.” His lies hadn’t gotten any better as the shift wore on.

She came into the room and went to her locker a few down from his, getting ready for the shift she was just about to start. “You're not.”

Unlike Grissom, she called him on his bullshit and he liked that about her. She was easy to talk to, straight forward. Non-judgemental. “I feel like a wuss.” He sighed. “Grissom told me I should take a break, and I did.” He didn’t mention the double shift, she’d been leaving right as he came in yesterday.

“Your burn victim,” she said knowingly. He knew he was easy to read, which he didn’t mind too often because it meant he didn’t always have to admit to things when people already knew.

He asked her the same question he asked Nick ten hours earlier. It felt like it had been a week since Nick wrapped up his hands. “How do you get an image like that out of your mind?”

She looked over at him, quiet for moment as she studied him, though it didn’t make him uncomfortable the way Grissom’s stare did. “You go home. You hug your cat, your dog, your pillow, your boyfriend.” She smiled at him for that one. She knew he would go home to Nick. “You have a beer, you watch a movie, and then you come back tomorrow.”

He looked over at her, eyes tired. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” It was almost the same answer Nick gave him. It told Greg he needed to figure out what worked best for him.

Sophia shrugged. “Rumor has it you used to be a pretty funny guy.” He didn’t know what she was getting at until she added a moment after, “Don't lose that.”

Greg nodded, his thoughts heavy and slowed when he stood to put on his coat. “Thanks, Soph.” He yawned. “Have a good shift.”

She smiled and touched his shoulder as he passed. “Tell Nick I said hi.”

There was a smile on his face when he left the locker room. He had something to look forward to on his way home.


End file.
